


to be alone

by tattooedsiren



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 10:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooedsiren/pseuds/tattooedsiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike rushes out of the building as quickly as his legs will carry him. But even in the bright city street it still feels too warm, too stuffy, and he can’t breathe.</p><p>[Tag to ep 2x09 - Asterisk]</p>
            </blockquote>





	to be alone

**Author's Note:**

> I had the vague idea for this not long after the episode. I felt strangely reluctant to try and write it, but my tumblr peeps encouraged me, so here it is. It didn't turn out exactly how I wanted but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

“I can’t,” Mike says, pushing Rachel away. He may have even shoved her away, but he suddenly felt like she was suffocating him. He felt too claustrophobic, like there was not enough air in the world to adequately fill his lungs. “I have to go. I have to…”

“It’s okay,” Rachel says, soft and reassuring.

“I can’t be here,” Mike continues, stammering more to himself than anything else. “I can’t-“

“It’s fine,” Rachel reiterates. She digs into her bag and pulls out Mike’s cell, left on his desk earlier that day, and hands it over before stepping aside. 

Mike rushes out of the building as quickly as his legs will carry him. But even in the bright city street it still feels too warm, too stuffy, and he can’t breathe.

He starts walking. He has no aim in mind, just needs to get as far away from this building as possible. This building was supposed to be a new start for him and Grammy, a way for them to be together as much as possible despite Mike’s busy work life. A way for them to reconnect, because as much as he hates to admit it, with everything that has been happening with Harvey and Donna and Jessica, Pearson Hardman has been his life these last few months, and he let Grammy go.

He let her go, thinking she would always be there for him. She was always there, a constant in his life, the one person he could trust to tell him the truth, who was always there for him even when he wasn’t there for her. And it’s likely she died not knowing how much Mike appreciated and loved her, that he was trying to making amends for the distance between them. And he already knows that it is something he will forever regret.

His breath hitches in his throat. He can see people giving him vaguely concerned looks as they pass each other on the crowded streets so he looks down, watches his feet as he walks, rubs a hand over his face as he tries not to cry.

His cell starts ringing but he ignores it. He doesn’t even see who is calling. If it’s the nursing home he can’t bear to deal with that, not yet, and if it’s anyone else he doesn’t want to talk to them. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want to be, can’t imagine existing in a world without Grammy.

He can’t wrap his mind around it. How is this possible? She was fine, healthy, had just wandered into the city and his work building to meet him for lunch. This can’t really be happening. It can’t.

Twilight sets over the city. Mike still keeps walking. He must’ve walked a million miles by now but he can’t stop. Because then he would have to deal, would have to accept, and he can’t do that, not yet.

He thinks he hears someone calling his name, but the noise is faint and he ignores it, just presses on. A hand grabs at his arm and he shrugs the person off, uncaring. But the unknown assailant won’t be deterred, and when they grab at him again this time Mike turns, ready with an outburst about leaving him the fuck alone, only it’s Harvey’s face he sees and the words die in his throat.

“Harvey?” Mike asks, confused. He feels disoriented, so he looks around and is surprised to recognize the buildings around him. Turns out he is only two blocks from Harvey’s condo.

“Rachel called me,” Harvey says gently.

The words force Mike’s eyes to Harvey’s. He sees nothing but compassion there, and oh God this is really real, this is really happening.

“Come on,” Harvey says, tugging on Mike’s arm, and Mike follows. They are silent as they walk to Harvey’s place. Mike can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He can’t breathe. He can’t do this. How the fuck is he supposed to do this?

When they make it inside Harvey still remains silent. He deposits Mike on the couch and he sits there, elbows digging into his thighs and his head in his hands. Tears silently leak from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t know how to deal with this. He doesn’t want to. He wants the silence of oblivion, wants to get high and block everything out, wants to drink until he passes out and hopes that when he wakes up it will all be a bad dream.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Harvey says as he deposits a steaming bowl of food on the coffee table in front of him, “don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“You don’t know what I was thinking,” Mike says at last, defiant and resigned all at once. His voice sounds hoarse and his throat feels scratchy.

“Of course I do. I know you. I know how you think. Don’t do it.”

Mike can’t believe that this is the conversation that they are having. It’s too surreal. This whole situation is fucking surreal. And the fact that not only is Harvey reading his mind but is also right would be funny under any other circumstance but this one. In the end he just nods, a silent acknowledgement that Harvey was right, an unspoken promise not to do anything stupid.

“Eat,” Harvey says, pointing at the bowl.

“I can’t,” Mike says. The idea of food makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

Harvey shrugs in a _suit yourself_ kind of way, sitting down on the couch opposite him. Honestly Mike expected Harvey to make him eat, expected him to force a glass of scotch into his hand. Instead he just sits there, silent, patient. He’s waiting for Mike. Waiting for Mike to be ready, to be able to speak, to be able to say anything and everything he wants.

He already misses her. It’s only been a few hours and he misses her so much. She’s gone. She was the only family he had left, and she’s gone.

“Oh my God,” Mike whispers, his breath a shaky exhale. He almost feels the physical pain of realization when he speaks. “She’s gone. I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

He buries his head in his hands, cries in earnest. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed. He knows Harvey will never hold this against him. 

He can feel the dip of the couch as Harvey sits beside him. Harvey rests a hand on Mike’s back, runs it up and down the length of this spine, a gentle and constant motion. And surprisingly, it helps. It’s something to focus on, a physical connection to this world and those who remain in it.

“Mike, listen to me. You are not alone.” 

Mike shakes his head. He doesn’t understand the words. He is alone. He has no one, no family, no parents or grandparents or aunts or uncles or even second cousins once removed. He is it. The last of his line. All that remains of his barren family tree.

“Mike,” Harvey presses, his tone insistent. His hand cups the back of Mike’s neck. “Look at me.” Mike finally lifts his head, meets Harvey’s eyes. “ _You are not alone_.”

It takes a few moments for the meaning of Harvey's words to become clear. He feels overwhelmed as the implications of Harvey’s words sink in. He wouldn’t go so far as to say it makes everything better, but his words certainly lighten the burden, offer him a reassurance that he is not too proud to take.

Mike nods in a silent thank you, and Harvey returns the gesture, letting his hand fall from Mike’s neck. Mike sinks further into the soft leather couch. He’s exhausted, feels like he has spent the day running a marathon. He wants to sleep for a year.

“There's a guestroom down the hall with your name on it, if you want,” Harvey offers.

The words are casual, his tone indifferent, but Mike sees through that. He knows Harvey wants to help, is doing the only thing he can think of that will do that. And he is so thankful. He can’t imagine going back to his apartment, but Harvey is giving him the option, telling him that whatever he needs, whether that’s company or solitude, Harvey or someone else or no one at all, whatever he needs is okay.

Mike inclines his head, a silent yes, and he thinks he sees relief on Harvey’s face, if only for a brief moment. “Thank you, Harvey,” he says, and he means it. He doesn’t know how he is going to get through this, but he knows it will be with Harvey by his side.


End file.
